


with a little help

by mywholecry



Category: Victorious
Genre: Crossdressing, Dating, Gen, High School, Humor, Rejection, Unrequited Love, every victorious fic i write will involve beck in drag, genfic, non-romantic fluff, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywholecry/pseuds/mywholecry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie learns how to be a man. (Well, sort of.) </p><p>A Robbie-centric episode with no b-plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with a little help

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be so many things, but then it just ended up being genfic about how asking people out is freaking hard and, also, how Beck in drag gives everyone confusing feelings. 
> 
> Also, Tori only has three lines. You're welcome.

Robbie really thinks that if he tries hard enough and writes funny songs and says honest, nice things, people will like him even though he’s totally hopeless. He truly believes this. It doesn’t matter that it has literally never worked for him _ever_. 

Okay, maybe Cat remaining completely oblivious to his undying love for her, despite the fact that he spent a week writing the perfect song, has kind of made him doubt his life philosophies. It’s easy to be disheartened when you feel like your heart has been accidentally stepped on by a tiny girl in high heels again and again, and Robbie’s a few miles past disheartened. 

Right now, if he’s still being honest, he’d say he’s officially gunning it straight for desperate. 

*

Cat tries to dye her hair blonde for that jerk, but it just turns straight up pumpkin orange, and she spends the next two days crying in the bathroom while Tori tries to tell her she’s still pretty through the stall door. Robbie doesn’t try to help, even though he agrees.

At the end of the second day, Jade shows up with a box of hair dye, and Robbie waits outside the girl’s bathroom with Beck and Andre until Cat bops out of there with her hair back to its unnatural state of red. Her eyes are swollen and pink, but she’s grinning. Same old Cat. 

She winks at them and makes finger guns in Robbie’s direction before Tori drags her off for a girl’s night with Jade following half-heartedly after them. 

Robbie kinds of sighs when Cat disappears out the door, and Beck rolls his eyes.

“Just ask her out, Rob,” he says.

“You say that like it’s easy,” Robbie says.

“Uh, because it is,” Beck says, and Andre nods beside him. 

“Oh, Catarina, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner this evening?” Andre intones, in a posh British accent, and Robbie frowns at him. 

“I wrote her a _song_ ,” he says, then turns around to quietly rest his head against the locker behind him. Beck rests a hand on his shoulder. 

“Man up,” he says, significantly, and Robbie doesn’t even know what that means. He just really wants to ask for a hug, but he doesn’t, because he thinks maybe that’s the opposite of manning up. 

When Beck slings an arm around his shoulder as they walk to their next class, though, he leans into it a little too much. He’ll take what he can get. 

*

Beck is a boy, and Robbie is also a boy but Beck is a boy in all those distinctive ways where you know everyone is going to start calling him a man once he turns eighteen and nobody will crack wise about it. Robbie’s pretty sure he’s going to be a boy until he can grow chest hair, and that doesn’t look like it’s happening anytime soon. He checks every morning.

But Beck has already got that body hair thing down, and he likes to flaunt it in suggestive v-necks. If he wasn’t his friend, Robbie would hate him a whole lot. 

As it stands, though, Robbie has never been able to hate Beck, which is why he’s not ashamed to show up outside his RV late one night and knock and knock until the lights come on and Beck finally opens the door.

“ _Dude_ ,” he says, and he’s wearing boxers and an undershirt and his hair looks nice even though he’s probably been sleeping for awhile. Robbie’s hair always looks like he’s suffered a minor electrical shock when he wakes up.

“Hi,” Robbie says. “Hi. Can you help me?” 

“I think you’ll need a psychologist for that,” Beck says, and Robbie chokes out, “Ha, ha, good point,” and pushes past him to get inside. Beck covers his face with one hand for a long moment before he shuts the door behind him. Robbie collapses on his sofa. 

“Please, make yourself at home,” Beck murmurs, wandering over to the cooler in the corner to grab two sodas. He tosses one to Robbie, who fumbles with the can before getting a grip on it.

Robbie says, “Thanks,” and downs half of it in one go to pretend like he’s not having some kind of weird breakdown. It’s probably not working. When he looks up, Beck is leaning forward and staring at him with concerned eyes. 

“So,” Beck says, slowly. “What’s up?”

“I thought about what you said,” Robbie says, “about manning up.”

“. . .uh huh.” Beck looks nervous. He probably has every right to be.

“Since I’m lacking in a father figure to constantly disappoint, I need your help,” Robbie continues, “to. . .blossom.” 

“Well, let’s start with not calling it _that_ ,” Beck says, and he’s leaning back, looking at the ceiling instead of at Robbie. “Is this about Cat?” 

Robbie thinks, _of course it’s about Cat!_ and then thinks maybe it’s about something kind of bigger than that. His mind passes over _growing up_ and _being less of a pussy_ until he finally just says, quietly, “You know I‘ve never really dated anyone.” 

“Yeah.” Beck sits up again to level Robbie with a half smile. “You’ve got kind of an untouched glow.” 

“Well, there’s only so much I can get from romantic comedies and reruns of _Grey’s Anatomy_ , you know?” Robbie says. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“First of all, stop taking cues from Katherine Heigl,” Beck starts, and Robbie nods along. He probably should have brought something to take notes with, but he didn’t have much time to think between having an aneurysm and leaving the apartment via the fire escape. “Second, I guess I can try to give you some pointers. Man to man.” 

Robbie grins at him and offers a hand for Beck to shake.

As he’s leaving, Beck asks, “Hey, where’s Rex been lately?” and Robbie explains how Rex started watching _Lost_ on Netflix after Robbie fell asleep one night and now he’s in the second season and won’t give Robbie his laptop back. Beck looks mildly alarmed at this, but he just says, “That’s probably for the best.” 

Robbie’s pretty sure that’s true. He can already imagine what Rex would say about all this. 

*

At lunch, Beck tells Andre after making him swear to keep it from the girls, and Andre laughs for eight minutes straight before he says, “Okay, I‘m in, I’ve always wanted to be in an eighties movie. Can we do it all in montage form? Wait, hold on.” He fumbles in his bag for his PearPod and turns it all the way up so Cheap Trick blares from his earbuds, then grins and nods at them. “Aw, yeah. Let’s do this.” 

“Do what?” Tori asks, from behind them. She drops her purse on the table and slides between Beck and Robbie, raising her eyebrows at them. 

They all look at each other for one long horrible moment. Suddenly, Andre grabs his PearPod and runs for the parking lot, _SURRENDER SURRENDER BUT DON’T GIVE YOURSELF AWA-aaaaaay_ fading away into the rest of the noise. Robbie stares after him. 

“Listen to classic eighties hits,” Beck says, seriously. 

“Andre, uh, wants to start a Styx cover band,” Robbie says. 

“He’s ashamed,” Beck agrees.

“ _So_ ashamed,” Robbie repeats. 

Tori pulls a face and says, “He should be,” before her phone starts ringing. They can all hear Trina yelling about something, and Tori says, “Oh, _chiz_ ,” under her breath before grabbing her purse and making for the school again. 

Robbie says, “We especially can’t let Trina know.” 

“That is the number one rule,” Beck says, “of our entire lives.” 

Andre wanders out of the bushes a few minutes later. 

“That was a close one,” he says, seriously. “Now, where do we start in Robbie’s Magical Journey Into Manhood?” 

“I was thinking about role playing,” Beck says.

“Hot,” Andre says.

“No.” Beck shakes his head. “No, it is not.” 

* 

Robbie doesn’t know how Sykowitz gets involved, but he’s not exactly surprised when they end up in his classroom after the last bell. He stands in front of them, hands clasped together solemnly.

“I’m glad that you boys have come to me with this problem,” he says, “and that our wildly inappropriate relationship continues to be both wild and inappropriate.” 

“What’s the plan?” Andre asks. “Are we going to dress Beck up like a lady and make him flirt with Robbie?” 

Beck shoves him, and Sykowitz says, “Uhm, well, yes, that was the general idea,” and pulls a tube of lipstick from his back pocket. He tosses it to Andre.

“Did you just happen to have that on you?” Robbie asks, nervously. 

“No more questions!” Sykowitz says. “I’m the teacher! Beck, what are your thoughts on skirts?” 

“I’m against them. I’m against everything. I don’t understand why I have to be the girl,” Beck says, ignoring the question and getting to his feet to take a large step away from them. Robbie turns to look up at him. 

“I mean, you’re, you know,” he says. “ _You_.” 

“He means you’re pretty,” Andre says, nodding encouragingly, and, yeah, that’s pretty much exactly what Robbie meant. Beck’s super pretty. He’s got these cheekbones and the hair and that stupidly nice smile that makes you feel all warm and confused. Robbie’s sure they’ve all dealt with this realization at some point.

“You have the hair of a Garnier Fructise model and the countenance of a young Grace Kelly,” Sikowitz adds, waving his hands in front of him. “Now put on the lipstick and practice your falsetto.” 

Andre flips the lipstick in the air before catching it and reading the name on the bottom. He cracks up and hands it to Beck with an encouraging, “It’s _Luscious Lady_ , man. Totally your shade.” 

“I hate you all,” Beck says. “This was my project.” 

“Technically, it’s my project,” Robbie says, “since it’s about me and all.” 

“This project is bigger than all of us now,” Sikowitz says, dramatically. “Andre, take Beck to the costume room and thoroughly gussy him up.” 

“Will do,” Andre promises, jumping to his feet and grabbing Beck’s sleeve to tug him towards the door. Beck breathes out such an impressive stream of swear words that Robbie glances at Sikowitz to see whether he has to give him detention for it even though they’re in clandestine after-school hours. 

“Phew,” Sikowitz says, shaking his head. “Jade sure taught him some things.” 

Robbie solemnly nods agreement. 

*

Beck and Andre have been gone for half an hour. Every once and awhile, they can hear them shouting at each other, and Robbie’s pretty sure he heard something about a corset, so basically everything’s going really well. After ten minutes of awkward silence, Sikowitz pulled out a portable backgammon board from his bag, and Robbie still hasn’t won a game. 

Sikowitz is in the middle of his third victory dance when the door opens, and they both turn at the same time. Andre walks in first, stopping in front of them before gesturing dramatically to the door and saying, “It is my pleasure to formally introduce Miss Rebecka Oliver.” 

Beck doesn’t come in. Andre turns back towards the door.

“Miss,” he says, a little more forcefully, “Rebecka. _Oliver_.” 

Robbie thinks that maybe Beck has abandoned them, and not without a good reason. Nobody ever expects to be forced to perform in drag, except for how they go to a performing arts school and everyone kind of expects to be forced to perform in drag.

“Geez, Beck,” Andre mumbles, throwing his arms up and rushing back out again. There’s the sound of a scuffle and then Beck stumbles into the room, catching himself on one of the desks. 

When he stands up straighter, Robbie’s eyes go wide. 

Yeah, he already knows that Beck is pretty and, sometimes, all body hair aside, pretty in a totally girl-like manner. And, right now, he’s got on pantyhose and a glittery black number that Robbie’s pretty sure Cat wore in a play at some point. There’s black eyeliner and soft gray eyeshadow and none of the lipstick. 

He doesn’t really look like a girl, though. He looks like Beck in a dress, which is different, and Robbie has no idea what to do with that. 

“Can we get this over with before the night janitor hits on me again?” Beck asks, uncomfortably, running hands over his thighs to smooth down his skirt. The dress is too small on him. It’s unzipped in the back all the way down to where the waistband of the pantyhose ride low on his hips. 

“We keep meaning to have a talk with him about that,” Sikowitz says, darkly.

They set the scene with desks and plastic prop food and classical music streaming from Andre’s phone. Robbie wants to protest that he actually has to figure out how to ask Cat out and have her actually understand what he’s doing before they get to an actual date, one where they’re preferably alone and Sikowitz isn’t standing behind him, shouting instructions.

Beck is reading off dialogue from a napkin in a high pitched voice, and Robbie is trying to act along as seriously as possible, but he’s kind of distracted by the fact that Beck does not know how to sit like a lady _at all._ Andre keeps throwing out pickup lines and telling him the telltale signs that a girl wants you to hold her hand, and Robbie could have just gotten a subscription to _Cosmopolitan_. It would have been easier, and he wouldn’t be holding Beck’s hand right now and telling him how beautiful his eyes are while Beck tries to look flattered and not super uncomfortable.

They’re at the part of the night where they have to decide who’s picking up the check when the door opens. Sikowitz says, “We’ll clean up ourselves, Walter, you’ve been around enough teenagers tonight.” 

Beck makes a dying noise in the back of his throat at the sound of boots on the linoleum, because it’s not Walter. It’s not Walter at all. 

“I was just coming back to get my book, but wow,” Jade says. Her grin is wide and entirely evil. “Did I miss my invite to this little shindig?” 

“I hate everything,” Beck says, hoarsely. 

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Jade says, gleefully. “I won’t start taking pictures if you let me in on your game.” 

Andre says, “We’re teaching Robbie how to pick up chicks.” 

“And your first instinct was to dress up Beck instead of, say, asking a real girl?” 

“. . .he’s pretty,” Robbie says, slowly.

“Augh,” Beck groans, resting his forehead on the desk, hair in the plate of fake spaghetti. Jade swoops down to sit on the stage, legs crossed neatly in front of her. 

“All right, boys,” she says. “Let’s do this right.” 

“Nothing about this is right,” Beck says, voice muffled and sad.

* 

Jade is more helpful than the rest of them, but she also can’t stop laughing at Beck, who blushes for probably the first eight times in his entire life. He leaves before the rest of them, and it’s already dark outside so Robbie has to take his chances and catch a ride back home with Jade. 

They sit in silence for half the time until Jade says, “So, you’re into Cat.”

Robbie shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. 

“Thanks for pretending that all of you haven’t known that since forever.” 

“Well, everyone except her, right?” she says. “But Cat barely knows her own address.” 

“She’s not _that_ bad,” Robbie says.

“Hmm.” Jade pulls up in front of his duplex. She turns in her seat to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Maybe she isn’t.” 

“You’re being mysterious,” he says, slowly, “and that scares me.”

“Cat’s an idiot, but she’d have to be _brain dead_ to miss the signals you’ve been throwing out,” Jade says. She doesn’t even look like she’s trying to be mean to him. 

“I wrote her a song! I called her swell!” Robbie says, “and she just ran off to try to win some. . .some jerky _hunk_.” 

“Because Cat’s not only an idiot but, uh.” Jade makes a face, lips twisted. “Tell anyone I said this and I‘ll hunt you down, but Cat’s sweet. She probably doesn’t want to break your poor little nerd heart.”

“Too late,” Robbie murmurs, and Jade rolls her eyes. 

“Just clearly and firmly tell her you want to make really weird babies with her without using any of Andre’s stupid pickup lines so we can all stop hearing about it,” she says, then reaches over him to push the car door open. “Now, get out of my ride, it’s starting to smell like pathetic.” 

Robbie steps out onto the sidewalk and shuts the door behind him. Jade turns up loud classical music and speeds off, and he watches the street until he can’t see her anymore. 

It’s probably the best idea he’s heard in awhile, better than “let’s make Beck dress up like a girl,” and “write Cat a song without actually telling her that it’s for her.” Just ask her out with no way that she can misinterpret it as friendly, like ripping off a band-aid instead of slowly and endlessly suffering and then just deciding to leave it on forever. 

Robbie’s surprised his knees and elbows aren’t completely covered in band-aids right now. 

*

It takes him two days to both manage to work up the nerve to talk to Cat and to get her alone. Since she bounced back from her last boyfriend, she keeps calling herself a bachelor and talking to absolutely everyone because Trina taught her the phrase “single and ready to mingle” and calling people _bro_. You don’t have a lot of spare moments with that type of lifestyle, so when he sees her alone at her locker, he rushes down the stairs and almost kills himself. 

“Slow your roll, Robbie,” she says, giggling. 

“Slowing it,” he agrees, leaning up against the locker next to hers to keep his balance. “Can I, uh, talk? To you?”

“You’re doing it right now,” she says, encouragingly. 

“Right,” Robbie says. 

They stare at each other, and Cat twists a lock of her between her fingers. Andre told him that hair twirling is a sure sign that a girl’s into you, but then Cat widens her eyes and chews on the end of her hair until she finally says, “Robbie, you’re not doing it now. Maybe you _can’t_ talk to me.” 

“Oh!” Robbie says. “Yeah! Sorry! Theatre?”

“I guess,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leading the way. She boosts herself up on the stage, staring down at him expectantly, and he moves to stand in front of her.

It’s time to actually man up.

“You know that song I played for you the other day?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “It was good, I liked it.” 

“That’s good,” he says, slowly, “because it was for you.”

“Oh.” Cat looks confused. “Did I forget a present-getting holiday? I didn’t get you anything.” 

“No, no.” Robbie shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans; they’re so tight that he can only fit his fingers in. He swallows hard. “I wrote it for you because I want to ask you out. On a date. Because I like you as more than a friend.” 

Cat says, “ _Oh_ ,” like she finally understands, then “Oh,” like she’s really sad about it, and Robbie feels his heart drop somewhere in his stomach. He turns to leave and transfer schools or something, and then Cat says, “Oh!” like she has something else to say. She hops off the stage, grabbing for his arm. 

“Robbie, you know I like you, right?” she says. “You’re funny and super weird and you wear girl pants, and I think you’re great.” 

Robbie says, “. . .but?” 

“It’s just really nice being your friend,” she says. “And I just don’t have feelings about you in, you know. . .” She draws off and looks around, then leans in and whispers, “You know, in a _sexy_ way,” with her eyebrows raised. 

Robbie nods. His heart feels like it’s back where it should be, and even though he thinks he might want to throw up, he doesn’t really want to die or move away or anything. He asked her, and she said no, and now he can work on getting over it and go have crushes on other girls who don‘t like him like that. Cat starts listing reasons why he’s a cool person and a good friend, and then she loops their arms together and leads him back out into the hallway so they can walk together to Sikowitz’s class. 

He gets a text from Jade halfway into class: _did you do the deed_.

When he turns around to look at her, Andre, Beck, and her are all staring back. He nods at them, and they all wave their hands in front of them like they want him to elaborate, mouthing: _and?_

He shakes his head, and they look disappointed until Sikowitz says, “It seems like some members of this class are interested in the fine and subtle art of _miming_. Jade, Beck, Andre, _aaaaaand_ Robbie. Why don’t you four come up to the stage and put together a pantomime worthy of my pants?” 

Robbie has no idea what that would entail, but Sikowitz grabs his shoulder when he comes up and leans in to whisper, “Are you and the redhead an item now?” 

News travels way too fast here.

“We’re going to be friends,” he whispers back, and Sikowitz nods gravely, propelling him forward. 

They mime trapping Jade in an invisible box, and then somehow an invisible piano falls on Robbie and he spends the rest of the time sprawled out on his back. Cat takes it upon herself to narrate their miming even though Sikowitz tells her that it kind of goes against the spirit of the thing, and her laugh still makes him feel kind of funny and light-headed. Despite the piano on his chest, though, he does feel like a weight’s been lifted off of him. 

There’s a whole school of possible rejection out there for him to face.

Maybe he’ll ask one of the shruggers out.


End file.
